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His lips suck on mine as his tongue invades my mouth, demanding for me to give in to his power. Not going to happen.
I fight right back, my tongue dipping deeper into his mouth. Our tongues continue dancing with each other for dominance. Our groans grow heavier with each lap of our tongues, and our lips are swollen from the vicious kisses.
We would make a fiery match. Both of us unrelenting and stubborn. We both have pasts that have made us ruthless and savage. We would be one of those couples with an inextinguishable passion that would turn to fighting any time we left the bedroom. The arguing would be worth it though to be kissed like this.
My hand slides under his shirt, my nails dig into his back as I push his shirt up, before tearing it off his body.
I gasp.
Enzo’s hard body terrifies and intrigues me. He’s not fit in the same way the football players at my high school are. His muscles aren’t even or crafted in a weight room. I doubt he’s ever worked out in the traditional sense, but his body is hard as steel. It’s rough and sharp along the edges of his muscles that have been built with years of hard work in the streets instead of in the gym.
He’s seventeen, barely a man, still a boy by most people’s tabulation. Young enough to still be in high school, although I doubt he attends, he has no need for an education a typical school can provide. He’s smart and sly despite little formal education. That’s all the skill he needs.
I stop our kisses as my hands move over his rippled abs and up to his chest. Scars darken his once flawless skin. He doesn’t have any tattoos I can see, which surprises me. Only scars. Too many for someone so young to have.
I have almost as many. Though none of mine come from being shot like his. But the knife scars I recognize. I’ve had the unfortunate experience of getting a knife jabbed into my arm before.
“Rape me,” I say.
His velvety eyes widen as he tucks my hair behind my ear gently. How can he be so tender right now? “It wouldn’t be rape,” his voice threatens.
My body burns with an ache I’ve never felt before. He’s right. It wouldn’t be rape, even though that should be the only way his cock gets inside me—by force.
I want him to fuck me, to tear away my virginity, to be my first.
“It wouldn’t be,” I agree, my eyelids growing heavy as I trace over a scar in his shoulder that appears to be a bullet wound. My body pulsates with blistering need.
My heavy eyes meet his and the whole world stills. The ocean waves calm, the motor stops, the seagulls stop squawking. Even the wind is silent.
“Fuck me; I don’t want to die a virgin.”
I wait for him to tell me that fucking me won’t save me. He won’t fall in love with my pussy and keep me so he can fuck me again. This man has fucked plenty of women in his short life, I’m sure.
He doesn’t say any of those things though.
Instead, he kisses me softer than he ever has before—a goodbye kiss.
Like hell it is! He doesn’t get a goodbye kiss.
I press my body to his naked front and feel his erection thrust into my stomach. He wants me, so much. Maybe more than I want him.
I don’t let him kiss me softly; I pull him back into our rough dance.
This time, it’s rougher than the first.
I kiss hi
m hard.
He slams my body against the wall.
I nibble harder on his lip.
He grabs my neck, threatening to kill me with his hands around my throat, his lips against mine, and his cock hard against my stomach. If I die, will he fuck my lifeless body?
The glare and determination in his eyes say no. He wants me very much alive.
Pain starts in my neck as he narrows his grip.
